


Midnight Cravings

by punchinginadream



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Calum and Ashton are neighbors, Cashton - Freeform, Luke and Michael are only mentioned, M/M, implied Clemmings, or implied muke whatever u wanna call it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3509237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punchinginadream/pseuds/punchinginadream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton just wants some Cheetos and Calum just wants his roommate and his boyfriend to stop banging each other at ungodly hours of the night.</p><p>or,</p><p>i got up at 2 am to get some snacks at the convenience store down the street and opened my door to find you trying to sleep on the floor of the hallway because your roommate has his fiancée over so i guess i’ll lend you my couch for the night AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight Cravings

"I'm not pregnant, I swear." is the first thing Ashton says to the cashier as he dumps a jumbo bag of Cheetos and an Iced Tea onto the table. The cashier -- an elderly woman with too much blue eyeshadow and snapping her gum -- gives Ashton a once over and raises her eyebrows.  
  
"Mhm," she hums as she scans the items. Ashton feels a bit self conscious, albeit for a good reason. He's got on his Ponies Forever t-shirt underneath a zip-up hoodie and a pair of flannel pajama bottoms, tucked into a pair of combat boots.  
  
"That'll be $7.08," He clumsily fishes for the money in his wallet before shoving them towards her. As she counts his money, the woman is still giving him a few judging glances every now and then, making Ashton wish he had just ignored his sudden craving for processed cheese and stayed home. Once she hands him back his change and puts his items in a bag, Ashton bids her goodnight and exits the shop, heading back towards his apartment.  
  
Ignoring the fact that 3 am was the prime time for a murderer to jump out of the shadows, Ashton quite likes walking the streets at night. It was calming, post-drunken college kid infested, and the orange glow of street lights was almost pretty.  
  
He's almost disappointed once he gets back to his apartment complex, especially when he heaves open the front door to a looming, eerie darkness. He contemplates using the light from his phone, but he knows he can get up to his apartment with his eyes closed and the weak source of light would only frighten him more. He goes as quietly and as quickly as possible to the stairs, taking them two at a time and urging himself to not look back. He knows he's being a baby, but it was an old building and he was susceptible to horror stories (even the ones that were so obviously fake).  
  
Luckily, the hallways have dim lights on the ceilings, so he can breathe a sigh of relief once he makes it to the second floor. His moment of solace is disrupted, though, when his eyes land on a dark lump right across from his apartment door. His breath hitches audibly as he slowly creeps up to what he presumes is a demon ready to attack him. His hands stop shaking once he gets close enough to get a good look at it--or, rather, _him_.  
  
Lying on the floor outside of his own apartment is his neighbor from 2B. Ashton's sleep deprived brain can't remember his name--Calvin? Carl? Cory? Whatever, he knows it starts with a C. He's seen him around before, waved a few times, and even him gave him a bottle of wine when he first moved in. He contemplates what to do, but just completely ignoring him isn't an option. It doesn't seem right to just leave him there without at least knowing _why_ , exactly, he's sprawled out in the middle of the hallway when he's got a perfectly good apartment no more than a foot away from him.  
  
Ashton hesitantly prods him in the ribs with the tip of his boot, watching 2B stir and push his face into the makeshift pillow he's made with a sweater.  
  
"Luke, for the third time, I told you I'm not coming back inside until you and Michael learn to--Oh." 2B stops abruptly when he realizes that it's not Luke (whoever he is) that he's talking to. "You're...you're not Luke." He sits up as he starts to realize his surroundings.  
  
"Er, no, I'm not," Ashton offers a small smile and an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. "Sorry to disappoint."  
  
2B scoffs, sitting up a bit straighter and rubbing his sleepy eyes like a child (which makes Ashton's stomach flip in ways he'd rather not think about at 3 am). "Not a disappointment. Quite the opposite, actually." Ashton waits for the boy to expand, but he doesn't offer any more information.  
  
Ashton's curiosity gets the better of him. "Um, I know it's not any of my business or anything, but why exactly are you sleeping in the hallway?"  
  
2B laughs dryly, resting his head against the door to his room. "Oh, right. Funny story," He casts his eyes up to look at Ashton seriously. "Not funny at all, actually." Ashton shifts uncomfortably under his steely gaze. "My roommate, Luke, it's his anniversary with his boyfriend tonight. And I'm all for gay stuff, _especially_ for gay sex, but not when they've been going at it for 4 hours and the noises they're making rival every single subcategory of boy on boy porn I've seen on Pornhub."  
  
Ashton has to believe that this boy is a pretty open book, because the way he's talking about his roommate fucking another dude is as casual as what the weather's gonna be next Friday. He half expects him to end his spiel with 'now back to Pete, with sports!'.  
  
Ashton, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. As far as open/closed books go, Ashton's a closed book secured with a lock and key.  
  
2B groans in annoyance, cradling his head in his hands. "I mean, really," He looks up at Ashton with eager eyes. "How many times can two people _go at it_?"  
  
"I, erm," Ashton clears his throat and fidgets a little. "I'm not licensed to really answer that with a definite number."  
  
The boy laughs at Ashton's response, dark eyes twinkling. "You're funny. You live across the hall, right?"  
  
"Yeah," Ashton points over his shoulder. "Live right there. 'M name's Ashton." He sticks his hand out, generously bending down a bit to accommodate to Calum's position.  
  
"Right, yeah, I remember," 2B shakes himself out of his sleep daze a bit more and grabs Ashton's hand.  
  
"I'm Calum, by the way."  
  
Ashton internally pats himself on the back; he was close enough. "Nice to see you again, Calum." _Even if it is half-past 3,_ Ashton thinks.  
  
"So, Ashton, I know it's not any of _my_ business, but what exactly are _you_ doing up at half past 3?" Calum asks, bringing his knees up to his chest and look up at the blonde boy.  
  
"Oh," Ashton's cheeks flush with embarrassment. Warily, he holds up the grocery bag. "I got a midnight craving. Or, a 3 am craving." Calum chuckles sleepily, running a hand through his messy hair.  
  
Both boys are searching for something to say when the unmistakable sound of the headboard hitting the wall is heard from inside Calum's apartment.  
  
"Oh, God," Calum covers his face with his hands, groaning loudly. "Please shut up!" he pleads, voice a bit too loud for 3 am, but Ashton can't blame him.  
  
"I can see how that would get...annoying," Ashton agrees.    
  
"You think?" quips Calum from behind his hands. "Fucking awful is more like it."  
  
Ashton hums in sympathy, pausing for a second. "Hey, um..." He _really_ can't believe he's about to do this, but the boy looks too much like a lost puppy for him not to offer. "I live alone, so, if you wanna just, crash on my couch tonight, I wouldn't mind."  
  
Calum slowly pulls his hands away from his face to eye Ashton suspiciously. "You'd do that?"  
  
"Sure," Ashton shrugs indifferently. "I mean, it's not like I'd be using my couch anyway."  
  
"How do I know you're not a psychopathic serial killer?" asks Calum; Ashton can't tell if he's serious or not.  
  
"Do I look like a psychopathic serial killer?" Ashton fires back.  
  
Calum concurs. "True. You're _way_ too cute to be psychopathic." Ashton tries to ignore Calum's comment, knowing thinking about it at all will lead to over thinking.  
  
"Don't be fooled. Haven't you ever seen Tate from American Horror Story?"  
  
"Why are you arguing reasons you could be a psychopathic serial killer?"  
  
"God, good question. Listen, just come sleep on my couch. I'm not gonna be able to go back in there knowing you're laying on out here all cold and alone."  
  
"Gee, thanks." Calum grumps.  
  
"Well, am I wrong?" Ashton cocks his head and watches Calum try and come up with a rebuttal. Calum acquiesces with a defiant huff, taking the hand Ashton's put out to help him up. Calum considers going back inside and telling Michael and Luke where he's going, partly so they're not worried after they get out of their post-sex haze (if they ever do stop going at it) and partly just to ruin their moment, but he decides against it and follows Ashton into his apartment.  
  
"Stay right there," Ashton holds up a finger, dropping his bag on the counter and walking into another room. He comes back a moment a later with two blankets and pillows overflowing in his arms. He dumps them all on the couch and lets out a sigh.  
  
"Thank you," Calum rushes out before Ashton can say anything else.  
  
"No problem." Ashton gives him a soft smile. "Do you want pajamas or something to sleep in?"  
  
Calum's eyes are looking Ashton up and down as he talks, trying to find out what was wrong with this boy. He was cute, funny, and probably too nice for his own good. Calum's waiting for him to pull out a knife from behind his back, or ask Calum if he wants to see his dead dog, or _something_.  
  
"Calum?" Calum's eyes snap back up to Ashton to see the blonde boy smirking slightly, obviously noticing how distracted he was.  
  
"Oh, no, I'm fine. Thank you so much, though, really. I'll be out of your hair before you even wake up." promises Calum.  
  
"Hey, it's really no problem." Ashton assures him. "Just the neighborly thing to do, eh?"  
  
"Right." Calum nods, giving Ashton a small smile.  
  
"Just yell if you need anything."  
  
"Will do. Goodnight, Ashton. Thanks again." Ashton's halfway to his room before he turns on his heel and gives Calum a playful glare.  
  
"Stop saying thank you." Ashton commands.  
  
"Yes, sir," Calum salutes him, the fact he's probably delirious from sleep passing his mind as he does it.  
  
"Goodnight, Cal." _Cal_. He smiles at the nickname as Ashton's bedroom door shuts. He's fluffing up his pillow and about to get settled in when the door creaks open once again and Ashton pops out.  
  
"Forgot my Cheetos," Ashton explains when Calum gives him a questioning glance. "G'night, for real this time."  
  
Calum can't help a yawn that breaks through as he tries to say goodnight back, a garbled "Nanight," is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, making Aston giggle again. _Damn_ his giggle is cute.  
  
-  
  
Ashton wakes up the next morning to neatly folded blankets and no trace of Calum, just as he'd promised. He can't help but feel a little disappointed that he never got Calum's number (retrospectively, it'd be quite easy, considering they live across the hall, but he lets himself mope anyways), until he spots a plate of pancakes on his kitchen counter that he definitely didn't make.  
  
Attached is a note of thanks from Calum, along with his number scribbled at the bottom, promising to make it up to Ashton for letting him crash on his couch.

**Author's Note:**

> shybabyluke.tumblr.com :~)


End file.
